


Claire Saffitz and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by badtemperedchocolate



Category: Bon Appétit Test Kitchen RPF, Chef RPF
Genre: Doughnuts Part 2, F/M, post-ep, starbursts, the aftermath of chaos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 11:36:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21427585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badtemperedchocolate/pseuds/badtemperedchocolate
Summary: (don't mention Starbursts.)
Relationships: Brad Leone & Claire Saffitz, Brad Leone/Claire Saffitz
Comments: 10
Kudos: 139





	Claire Saffitz and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to professortennant and 40millionyears for their help with this!
> 
> This is pure fiction. Not real, not claimed to be real.

Hunzi’s long gone, Kevin has packed his stuff away, and the kitchen is quiet.

Claire is exhausted.

She’s also wondering how feasible it is to set a small fire – just a small one – that would destroy every Starburst in this kitchen.

Doughnuts are frustrating, sure. She’s still trying to figure out how they went wrong, and she knows it’ll keep turning over in her mind until she figures it out. But Starbursts make her want to murder something right now.

And who the hell decided it was wise to film these two disasters simultaneously?

But the day’s over, she’s off till Monday, and she lets herself drag a little as she pulls off her apron.

“Hey.”

Claire looks up, startled, to find Brad leaning in the doorway, watching her, backpack slung over one shoulder. “Hey.” She blinks. “I thought you already left.”

He shrugs. “Not really in a hurry.”

Claire shoots him a look. “Uh-huh.” It’s 5:25 on a Friday afternoon. _Everyone_ is in a hurry. “Try again.”

Brad grins at her, the soft crooked smile of his, the one that makes her heart skip a beat. “I know you had not really the best day.”

She grimaces. “It’s over. That’s what matters.”

“Well, you mentioned getting a drink. Still want to?” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I promise not to talk about Starbursts.”

As tired as she is, the thought of a drink or two with the test kitchen’s official jar-two-thirds-full kind of guy sounds delightful. But she’s famished, too. And she really just doesn’t feel like cooking anymore tonight. “Actually, you know what sounds good right now?”

“Pizza?”

It’s a little scary, how well he knows her. “It’s like you read my mind.”

“C’mon.” He offers a hand to pull her to her feet. “Let’s go get you some food and alcohol and it’ll make everything better.”

* * *

Friday night is not the ideal time to go looking for dinner in Manhattan with no reservations, but Brad is one of those people who knows a guy that knows a guy that met a guy once who knows someone who just _happens_ to know one more guy, and Claire finds herself sitting across from him in a cozy little booth at an adorable little hole-in-the-wall pizzeria she’s never heard of, but already loves.

“I don’t know how you find these places,” she comments with as their waiter hands over their drinks and leaves with their pizza order.

“That’s just who I am, Claire. I’m a finder. I find stuff.”

“Uh-huh.” She smiles tiredly, her chin propped on one hand. She’s hit the mellow, pillowy phase of tired. Everything’s warm and soft and this cute little pizzeria smells so good.

She’s also getting dangerously close to losing her filter. It was bad enough earlier (and she’s about 90% sure Hunzi’s not going to cut the footage of her spitting out her water, because he’s Hunzi). She’s in danger of getting a little slap-happy.

“Hell of a day, hey, Half-Sour?”

She shrugs. “It could have been worse.”

“Really?”

“Jeez, Brad. Make me feel better, why don’t you.”

“Claire. Seriously. Those doughnuts.” He shakes his head. “Fuckin’ _nightmares_.”

“Hey!” She pouts. “I thought we were leaving work at work?”

“Sorry! Sorry.” Brad waves his hands. “My bad. Fuck doughnuts and Starbursts and all that shit.”

“Thank you.”

Claire swirls her glass of beer, chin on one hand, thinking. Yeah. Shitty day.

But – was it really so bad?

She’s had bad days at work. She’s had really, really shitty days at work. But never, not once, did any of those bad days include so much laughter.

“Hey, hey. We gotta toast.” Brad raises his glass, his smile widening as she lifts her own, clinking it softly against his. “Whaddaya wanna drink to?”

Claire sighs softly. She’s _so_ tired. And she just – she just wants to – 

“Teamwork,” she says finally. “To you and me.”

He stops for a moment, and as his eyes meet hers, something twists, something gentle and bright and unstoppable, deep inside her chest.

“Shitty day and all, and you’re still smiling,” he muses. “So much for Half-Sour. Maybe you’re secretly jar two-thirds full, after all.”

It’s not even alcohol, she thinks. She’s barely had any yet. She just…doesn’t have room for anything but truth right now, even as she looks down at the glass in her hands. “It’s better when you’re around.”

When she chances a look up, she finds Brad looking down at her with the softest expression she’s ever seen on his face. His eyes are sparkling, and her heart does a little stutter in her chest.

The thought crosses her mind, unbidden, trembling and hovering like a butterfly, that maybe everything is about to change.

* * *

Dinner is delicious, of course. She knows better than to doubt Brad when it comes to food, especially when his authority comes from a friend of a friend of a neighbor of that guy he met that one time whose brother knows someone. Who is now Brad’s new best friend.

“So _that_, Claire,” he assures her, wiping his mouth with his napkin, “is why you never _ever_ wanna borrow someone’s favorite goat in Sweden without asking first.”

“Uh-huh.” Her face hurts from smiling. “I’ll remember that.”

Brad drains the rest of his beer and Claire sighs, sitting back in her seat. She’s comfortably full and warm and contented and the chaos of the kitchen today feels like it’s a million miles away right now.

She’s _happy_.

* * *

Their server boxes up the remaining pizza for them, and Brad grabs the check before Claire can even try to reach for it. “Ah, lemme. You’ve been dealing with Starbursts _and_ me this week. That’s more than enough for anyone.”

Any protest she might have come up with dies on her lips as she smiles. “You _can_ be kind of a handful.”

He shoots her a cheeky grin as he digs out his wallet. “I think you handle me pretty well, Claire.”

She hides her face behind her glass but she knows it’s obvious that she’s blushing.

* * *

The minute they’re outside in the balmy spring evening, Claire wonders if he’s going to say _okay, bye, see you Monday,_ but instead, Brad turns to face her with an expectant look, backpack slung over one shoulder.

“You know, it’s kinda nice out. You wanna walk a little? Burn off some of that pizza?”

“Sure.”

As they weave through the crowded sidewalks, Claire reaches for Brad’s arm instinctively, just to keep from getting separated. He takes her hand, tucking it in his arm. She leans into him without really thinking about it, and it feels so easy, so natural, that it takes her a moment to really feel the warmth of his body pressed against her.

* * *

After ten minutes of slow, easy strolling in no particular direction, Brad insists they have to stop for gelato. Claire laughs, shaking her head. “Brad – come on, Brad, we _just_ had pizza.”

“Yeah, we did.” He waves a hand at the little gelateria they’ve stopped in front of. “And now we’re havin’ dessert.”

She cocks her head. “You’re not a dessert person.”

“But you are.”

He says it simply, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if it doesn’t make her cheeks warm with the thought that this is just what he does. He thinks about her. He plans around her.

The jar’s always two-thirds full, isn’t it?

He notices her watching him, and tilts his head curiously. “What?”

“Okay. You win.” She tugs his arm. “Dessert it is.”

* * *

The little hint of _something_ has been steadily building all evening, fed slowly by the tiny kindling of a thousand little looks and smiles and soft, shy blushes, and as they walk back down the street, finishing the last mouthfuls of salted caramel gelato, Claire realizes, it’s been fanned into a warm blaze.

Maybe, she’ll eventually realize, it’s been flickering for so long that she was never really without it.

* * *

By the time they reach her place, Claire’s still tired but feeling settled. Her arm is still looped around Brad’s, but she finally has to tug it free, digging through her purse for her keys. Brad waits patiently, one hand tucked in his pocket, and isn’t this just the perfect end to a very nice date?

It should feel like any other day, but she feels _soft_ tonight. Soft and tired and too mellow not to be honest.

“So.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, looking down. When did she turn back into a blushing, stammering teenager? “This was really nice.”

“Yeah, it was.”

She fusses with her keys, twisting them nervously in one hand, trying to figure out what to say.

“Hey Claire?”

She looks up to find him watching her with a hesitant look, something different about him. Something hesitant. Like the gentle, easy magic of this quiet night is making him think about things differently, too.

“Yeah?”

“You, ah –” He clears his throat, tugs off his cap, runs one hand through his hair. Puts the cap back on. “I don’t –”

“What is it?”

He pauses for a moment, like he’s re-thinking whatever it was he was going to say, then finally just shakes his head. “I’m sorry you had a crappy day.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Brad eyes her skeptically, and Claire shrugs, feeling the blush warming her cheeks. “I mean – it wasn’t the best. But it wasn’t all bad.”

“Oh really?” His eyes are sparkling, like he can somehow hear the words tumbling confusedly through her tired brain (_when you’re around, everything’s better_).

“Yeah.” Claire’s feeling too honest again. “I had a good day _with you_.”

The words feel too bright in her mouth, too much, but she’s said them anyway, and then she sees the look on his face. His eyes light up, and as brash and loud and too much of everything as he is sometimes, he _gets_ it.

He clears his throat, grinning at her sheepishly. “Look, Claire. I’m not – I just – you know words ain’t my thing.”

She smiles fondly. _Rotissererie_. “Uh-huh.”

“Well – I’m trying to figure out where we are right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I really like you, Claire.” Her eyes go wide, her heart hammering at the weight of the simplest, softest words, but Brad doesn’t stop, doesn’t let them settle. “And if you feel – if you want –”

“Yeah?” she prompts when he pauses just long enough to make her nervous.

“So – so we’re here, yeah? Right now. Just kinda where we are. Point A.” He shrugs. “And – I’m not sayin’ I wanna go straight from A to Z, y’know, just like that, but maybe – maybe we could try movin’ forward a little? See if we like it?”

“You mean – like – Point B?” Her voice sounds breathless, even to her own ears.

“I was thinking maybe Point K.”

She blinks. “Point K?”

“Y’know.” He shrugs. “Kissing.”

Her gaze flicks to his mouth in spite of herself, and she swallows. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’d really like to kiss you,” he admits, shuffling his feet against the sidewalk. “I mean, if you want.”

Claire licks her lips. “I – okay.”

“Okay?”

She nods, and it’s not exactly right, this careful, too-blunt, stilted sort of _if-you-please_, but it _is_ somehow. It’s not remotely smooth but neither is Brad, and then he leans in to cradle her face with one hand, and her eyes flutter shut and then his mouth is on hers and everything just goes totally, blissfully silent.

It’s nothing like she ever expected with him.

It’s soft and delicate, so careful and unhurried. He kisses her gently, light, almost chaste, and it’s so unbearably sweet and perfect that it makes her chest ache and her cheeks flush and her body is alight and aware and _alive_ with sheer, total bliss.

Today has been a rollercoaster. And right now, he’s kissing her on the front steps of her building, on a Friday night, with a box of leftover pizza between them and the lingering sweetness of gelato on his mouth, and Claire thinks she’s never, ever been happier.

When he finally lets her go, Claire blinks dazedly, looking up at his soft blue eyes and crooked smile and the riotous mess of curls peeking out from under his cap.

He brushes a strand of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear with surprising tenderness. “So Point K, huh?”

She flushes hotly. “Yeah. I like Point K.”

“Me too.”

“Uh-huh.” She looks down at the box in her hands. “You know, I’ve got this really good leftover pizza.” She bites her lip, looking up at him. “You want to come over for lunch tomorrow?”

His grin is as bright as all the lights in Manhattan.

“It’s a date.”

Brad leans down to steal one more kiss, as soft and light as air, and by the time he lets her go Claire’s convinced she’s walked out of Manhattan into a fairytale but she’s never, ever going to complain

He insists on waiting to see her open the front door before finally heading for the nearest subway, waving goodnight, heading down the street towards the subway, leaving Claire with a box of leftovers, the phantom memory of his lips on hers, and smile she doesn’t think will ever go away.

* * *

It’s not ten minutes later that her phone buzzes, and she looks down to find a text message from Brad.

_miss u already_

Claire grins, setting down her glass of water and typing out a quick response. _Tomorrow!_

She’s only just turned away when his answer buzzes again.

_meet you at point K_


End file.
